


Daisy

by Choi_Aya05



Series: Day6 Supernatural AU [7]
Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Demon Kim Wonpil, Descriptions of Non-Graphic Violence, Fox Deity Kang Younghyun, M/M, Minor Character Deaths, Sungiin is here btw you just gotta squint, Vampire Park Jaehyung, morally gray characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26715136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Choi_Aya05/pseuds/Choi_Aya05
Summary: His jeogori wouldn't stay pink. It was only ever stained red, no matter how hard Younghyun washed it. Even when Wonpil's magic made it fade, Jae still saw the red.The pink his sister had chosen for him, the pink his grandmother had said brought out his complexion.It became red.Or: Jae dealing with becoming a vampire.
Relationships: Kang Younghyun | Young K/Park Jaehyung | Jae
Series: Day6 Supernatural AU [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862596
Comments: 10
Kudos: 36
Collections: Day6 OTPs





	Daisy

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here goes nothing.

From the very first taste, it had been over.

Jae's eyes had glowed, the prettiest jewels Younghyun had seen, hopelessly fixated on Wonpil—specifically, on _what_ he carried. Trailing from the red dripping onto the floor, to the gaping cavity in its chest, fascinated with the tracks made by the flow.

Jae followed each and every little movements, his gaze glossy, mind blank. Only one thing prevailed: the hunger.

Wonpil laid the body on the ground, like a precious offering to a god. Jae, driven by instinct, with the speed he had never possessed before, dove in. He feasted upon them—it—his _food—_ like a starved man.

The skin that broke under his new fangs, the flesh against his mouth, the blood in his tongue—Jae was lost. So lost in finally, _finally_ satisfying his hunger. Somehow, the more he drank, the thirstier he felt. But he was also full. A void in him he didn't realize was there, that nothing could ever fill, was brimming.

He was euphoric. He was _addicted_.

Even more the second time. More so in the third.

Jae was lost. Had lost count on how many people— _humans_ that had led lives of their own—he had consumed. Younghyun and Wonpil did the dirty work for him; they "hunted" so he didn't have to, only ever needing to sink his fangs and feed. They were dead, freshly so, by the time they reached Jae.

Jae couldn't find it in himself to care.

(Younghyun's cheeks had gotten more defined, _hallowed_. Under his eyes were dark discolorations. Surrounding him was a gloom, uncharacteristic and opposite to his usually cheery disposition.

Jae was never coherent enough or for too long to notice.)

Beneath his dermis, wrapping around his muscles, heavy in his very bones, was strength. Strength Jae had never known, beyond what he could fathom.

There was an urge. A strong one. He knew, he could feel it: the things he was capable of. He wanted to smash things, pulverize them with his bare hands, throw them to a stone wall and watch them shatter into pieces. Tear them apart.

He wanted. And he felt it: he _could_. He wished didn't desire such things, but he did.

It was engulfing him, as a wildfire to an innocent wildlife. He was searing, with desire and _rage_.

When Jae wasn't preoccupied of being a mindless savage, in the brief instances of clarity, were hazy memories.

He wade through them, a man going back in his burning home seeking for whatever he could salvage amidst all the smoke.

He remembered nurses offering to brew for him. He had hovered and monitored them for a moment, but he was being called by... who? He wasn't sure.

He looked away to indulge them, and looked back to see a man—a doctor?—conversing with the nurses. Then they were telling him that it was done.

He remembered the way his heart had beaten heavily in a warning he didn't overthink, the way it had plummeted at the prince's state; at seeing those eyes, speculated to be the most beautiful among kingdoms, hollow but trusting. (Trusting _him._ )

The shock and bafflement when the prince had convulsed, had thrown up blood. The numbing fear of committing a mistake he wasn't aware he was doing, of being defenseless against the crime he didn't do but couldn't deny.

The blade as it pierced through the layers of his clothes to his skin, to his _heart_ and beyond.

Jae held a palm flat to his chest, to soothe the phantom pain. Underneath, his heart beat to an abnormally slow tempo. His skin was cold as marble stone.

Jae noticed how he seemed to be sensing with a different sort of clearness, clearer than clear; he could see black ants crawling from meters away even at night. He could hear Younghyun lowly humming from the kitchen. When he had slid the bedroom door open, it had broke.

He was different now.

He wasn't liking it.

His jeogori wouldn't stay pink. It was only ever stained red, no matter how hard Younghyun washed it. Even when Wonpil's magic made it fade, Jae still saw the red.

The pink his sister had chosen for him, the pink his grandmother had said brought out his complexion.

It became red.

During the time between the dark and the sun on its way to rising, Younghyun combed Jae's hair. He wanted to avoid tangles once he were to braid it.

Jae stared at the wall but was seeing nothing. He had turned unresponsive, as he had since his turning; detaching himself from his new reality for as long as he could until it caught up with him again.

(Until he had to bury his fangs in the next unfortunate mortal. Until he snapped out of it and had to force himself back into that state of emptiness.)

Younghyun let him be, focusing solely in the task of braiding his hair. Each knot thoughtful and doting, made by fingers deft from experience.

(Younghyun recalled the night before Jae had died; he had combed this very mane with all the care in the world. Combed like this, in a calm night like this.

He had put it in the same style before they slept, futons pressed together and hand in each other's. And before that, the countless times he had done the same, sometimes even adorning every knot with flowers.

Perhaps he should collect some for Jae, once the sight of them would no longer sting like Younghyun knew it would. A tiny piece of solace, that not everything had to be lost.)

Once his task was done, he delicately guided Jae down to retire for the day. So they could have a small respite, a little serenity, a tiny illusion that everything was the way they were supposed to be. Nothing was amiss: they were to sleep and Jae would wake in a few hours to water and coo at his plants. Then he shall return by Younghyun's side to wake him with kisses and coax him with saccharine words.

And then they would exchange their first smiles for the day.

Younghyun ran a hand on Jae's back as the other's head rested on his chest. He missed the way when they would be in the same position and Jae would lift himself a tad to bop Yonghyun's nose to this one beat: _taptaptap. Tap._ Same tempo, same rhythm. Always.

Younghyun couldn't wait to have it all back. To have Jae back. Even if it wasn't the same. It didn't matter.

He just wanted his Jae back.

(It was then that Younghyun realized: if the end had hurt so much, then what came after more so.)

Jae breathed in, before stepping out into his garden. It was the first time he would be out of the house after his turning.

Quiet.

The plum blossoms swayed on their low branches with the light evening breeze, perhaps chattering about the spring. Perhaps the tulips and canola that littered his garden gossiped amongst themselves. Perhaps the azaleas were exchanging chortles in their shrub. But Jae didn't hear. He couldn't.

He never would, not anymore.

Jae _screamed_.

He covered his ears and screamed, a tormented, terrible sound of agony. He fell to his knees, and curled up in himself pathetically. He lost them.

Like a child losing a pet they'd grown up with, like a soldier losing a limb from the war. Like losing your closest friend.

They never left, but he lost them anyway.

(Behind him was Younghyun, who wanted nothing more than to look away and shield his own ears from this pain, but he didn't. He _must_ not.

He did this.

He dug his own grave. Now he had to lie in it.)

_They were in an open field, a different location from their usual. Jae liked to visit here despite the additional distance to their walk; the abundance of wild flowers made his eyes gleam like his greatest dream had been granted._

_He loved to bathe under the sun here, and Younghyun loved to watch him brighten with bliss as he weaved wreaths after wreaths._

_He especially loved how Jae would catch his stare and grin, boyishly handsome._

_Younghyun offered him a white daisy to add to the forming crown. Jae's lips moved. He said something and Younghyun knew what it was, but the words were inaudible._

Younghyun opened his eyes to the darkness of their room, disoriented for a moment. Morning used to greet him, but he was adjusting. The night wasn't too bad; Jae made them bearable.

Jae was facing him. So for a minute, Younghyun allowed himself to study his features despite knowing it better than his own. His hand hovered over his face, wanting to trace them but not wanting to wake him prematurely. Not while Younghyun had yet to bring him something to fill his hunger.

He soundlessly sat up, sighing. He hoped tonight would be kinder to Jae.

(He thought back to his dream—his _memory_. Jae's lips had moved, and they said, _"thank you."_ )

"We will have to move," Wonpil stated, observing the way Younghyun wiped the blood from Jae's chin. Jae was immobile, the only indication of life from him was the periodic blinks and the slightest rise and fall of his chest.

(Wonpil pitied him, but he couldn't empathize. He knew what Jae was going through, but he didn't understand its depths.)

Younghyun nodded, alert despite his busy limbs, "I shall have everything settled by tomorrow."

Wonpil shook his head. Realizing Younghyun couldn't see, he said, "no. Not yet."

Younghyun glanced at him with a raised brow.

"We have to wait."

"For what?"

"Someone."

Younghyun's gaze narrowed. "Someone," he echoed suspiciously.

"A companion."

"...companion?"

"The spirit would be on its way in six days time."

"A spirit. And why are we waiting for a _ghost_?"

Wonpil smiled, a secretive little thing, and didn't respond anymore.

"He... Jae is not well, still," Younghyun was scrambling explain— _again_. To come up with something that wouldn't imply the wrong thing, or sound like an excuse (even if it was).

He saw their postures deflate. It stung. How had everything came to be this way?

"Then, maybe tomorrow?" Yongbok asked, using the same words from yesterday, and the day before, and before. Younghyun couldn't bear to be the reason the hope in his eyes dim. But he couldn't bear feed them lies too.

"Perhaps," he answered. Vague, unsure, but not completely hopeless. Perhaps tomorrow would be a better day.

It had been seven days since his turning and tonight was the first that Jae was coherent during feeding.

The tang of blood, something he had associated with pain, what he used to detest—he hated that it had turned so alluring, _appetizing_.

He held the body close, leaning in, _closer_ —

Jae sobbed. He cradled the body and hid in its neck. He couldn't do it. How had he been able to do it? No, no, he was too conscious for this—

"You have to feed, Jae," Wonpil patiently persuaded. "You must, so everything will not fall in vain."

Jae looked up. Younghyun reeled back, heart plummeting and breath stuttering.

He had made a discovery.

A very, _very_ unpleasant one.

"I cannot." Jae shook his head and beseeched, "please do not make me do it, I cannot—"

"You must not cry, Jae, it will only worsen the hunger," Wonpil warned. "Especially since you have yet to learn control over it."

"W-what?"

"Blood," Younghyun muttered, eyes wide and watery. "You—your tears."

"My tears?" Jae's voice cracked. " _Blood_?"

Younghyun nodded, his own tears falling. What had he done? _What had he done?_

"Such is the curse of a creature made from magic that tampered with life," Wonpil enlightened, before turning stern.

"No matter how much you lament, you cannot change your fate," he told firmly. Merciless. "All you can do now is accept it and work around it. You do not want to kill? Then listen and learn."

Wonpil then softened his tone. "This is not for forever, Jae. You only have to do this initially, to strengthen the spell, for it to take a strong hold."

"You killed none of them," Younghyun comforted. He covered one of Jae's hands that still held onto the corpse, hoping his love wouldn't notice the way it was shaking. He was able to ignore the stench of blood; had gotten used to it. "They arrive to you lifeless. You have no fault over it."

"Y-Younghyun." Jae's lips trembled. "Forgive me." He shut his eyes and buried his face in the body's neck once more. _"Forgive me."_

He tore into the flesh.

_Jae had always been clumsy, which was why it came as no surprise when he tripped on their way to the river._

_The surprise was the uncharacteristic squeal he had let out when Younghyun caught him by the waist._

_Younghyun normally steadied him by the arm, or let him be as a source of (sadistic) entertainment, but it had been the first part of Jae he could grab on. And by reflex he had squeezed, which seemed to be the cause of the sound._

_Younghyun, after the shock had worn off,_ smirked _. Jae paled._

_"No—_ ah! _Stop!_ Younghyun! _I will kill you—_ stop! _"_

_But Younghyun was having too much fun with the way Jae's laughters were mixing with his screeches, his threats failing to have his desired effect._

_When he finally let up Jae's knees had collapsed under him and he sat on the ground, panting and quiet. Younghyun was quiet too, and Jae knew him enough to be aware that Younghyun was contemplating if Jae was truly offended, if he must apologize or not._

_Jae turned. He was squinting up at Younghyun, annoyed. The other's fine hair was tousled, ears turned to the back, breathing just the slightest bit labored. The sun was dappling through the trees, illuminating him in all the right ways._

_Suddenly it was hard to breath._

Jae's eyes fluttered open in welcome of the night. He took a deep breath to keep the tears at bay at the dream—the _memory_.

He would never see the way the sun shine upon Younghyun's red ears, turning it auburn. He would never feel the cool relief of the breeze in a hot day, would only ever know the chill of the night. The flowers would never sing for him again, the trees would never impart their wisdom to him. The animals would avoid him, his friends—

Gods, his _friends_. The fairies, nymphs—they'd _hate_ him and all he'd done.

Time would pass and it would erase witch Jaehyung in history, erase him from people's minds. Erase his memories—the part that frightened him the most.

He never wanted to forget, not one moment.

But he would, and he was scared.

He wanted to beg someone, something, _anything_. He felt as though he was holding on to a feeble rope yet steadily slipping no matter how hard he gripped, knowing that letting go meant falling down in a dark endless abyss.

The worse thing was that falling felt imminent.

(He didn't want to perish; not with so many unfulfilled goals. Not when he knew how much it would break Younghyun.

Not when Younghyun had sworn to follow him.

But living with lives lost because of him, for him—did he deserve this chance? A chance that had been taken so abruptly from those people for his sake?)

"They would not stop coming by to ask for you."

"I cannot, Younghyun," Jae shot down instantly, shaking his head in remorse and shame. He yearned to see them, be with them, as if nothing had changed.

But everything had. It was undeniable.

He would only loathe himself more if he met them, take in every detail his blurry eyesight was incapable of before, and knew that the eyes looking at them weren't brown.

(Younghyun felt a pang in his chest. He would have to deny their friends yet again. Jae would spend another day hating himself.

What had he done?

_Was it the right thing?_

"It was neither right nor wrong," Wonpil had abruptly spoken up in the middle of their trek home hours prior, with yet another corpse slung on the fox's shoulder. He glanced at the demon's placid expression. "It's simply what it is.")

Jae came to lucidity to Younghyun loosely holding his hand between both of his. His digits were a tad shorter but broader as they covered Jae's slender ones. They were warm; a blanket on a cold downpour, a hot tea in winter.

"I have caused you so much suffering," he whispered, trying and failing not to cry.

"It was a sacrifice I had willingly made," Younghyun answered, his voice in that low timbre from slumber that Jae adored so much. His eyes slowly opened, fighting against grogginess. "I would go through it all over, should I return to the past. Or perhaps prevent everything in the first place. But if I am unable to, then I shall tread this path again, if it was the means to save you."

"I am no longer a servant of life. I no longer live in the light. Everything I had that had endeared you was no longer. Would you still see me so dearly? Had I remained dead, it would have preserved the image of me you had loved." Jae sniffled. "Do you not regret it?"

"My only regret was everything you had to endure from all this." Younghyun brought Jae's hand to his lips. "It was selfish of me. All of this, it was born out of greed. The years we had spent together did not satisfy me, and I wished for more. Forgive me," Younghyun muttered against the back of Jae's hand, eyes screwed shut. "Forgive me, my love."

Younghyun felt Jae's hold tighten. He was smiling, still capable of rendering Younghyun breathless despite the red streaks marring his face. "We have both endured a lot. But I was only able to because of you, Younghyun-ah. Thank you. Thank you, my love."

Every beat of Younghyun's heart hurt, in both the bad and good way. It was only temporary, as Wonpil had once said. Everything shall pass. Happiness passed, sadness passed. That didn't mean they never return, but Jae had Younghyun and Younghyun had Jae. It was what mattered the most.

But tonight, Jae mourned. The dead, the loss of his humanity, his magic. But most of all, he mourned the loss of radiance in Younghyun's eyes. How everything had taken so much toll on him too, and how he tried to seem unaffected for Jae. To be the strong foundation when Jae crumbled; to be the hand that pulled him up so he didn't have to hold on to that weak rope and inevitably fall down the abyss.

He wasn't a murderer; he was merely a man in love. No—he _was_ a murderer as much as he was a man in love.

Criminals, they both were.

"I still have some savings," Jae said once he had calmed. They sat side by side against the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest, one hand attached to Younghyun's whose legs were stretched ahead. "Will you purchase a new jeogori for me? A black one."

Younghyun's ear twitched, surprise etched on his face. "Black?" Jae nodded.

"So the blood would not show should it stain."

A pregnant pause.

"Then we shall be matching." Younghyun smiled.

Jae smiled back.

The knock that came on their door was different. It wasn't tentative like Yongbok's, careful like Hyunjin's, rapid like Changbin's, angry like Jimin's, or powerful like Jinseok's.

It was familiar anyway.

Younghyun opened the door to Jae's family, all looking glum and nervous, but also relieved.

He couldn't help it; he burst into tears.

"Oh, son," Jae's mother cooed. She took him in her loving arms, patting his head for a job well done. He clenched his fists on her sseugae chima in turn.

"I was lacking, and I could not protect him like I vowed to."

"You were not," he heard Jae's father's tone. It left no room for argument, sure and strong. "You have done so much."

"If not for you, he would have not been with us anymore," Jae's sister continued. She was smiling through her own tears. It would seem like Jae's grandfather had seen everything through his visions. He never interfered with it, however—he mustn't.

Younghyun couldn't imagine the pain of knowing his grandson's fate but having to withhold and stay a spectator; the very thought of it made his heart ache.

"Thank you, Younghyun," Mother said. Light with comfort, heavy with sincerity. "Thank you for saving our son."

Younghyun could only respond with a sob.

"Father?" Jae timidly called out; shocked, disbelieving, _terrified_.

Younghyun backed away from Mother as she and her husband took in their child, what he had become and what was left of him.

"Jaehyung," Father called out in a voice thick with emotions. "Son." He made an aborted movement, like he didn't know if he was allowed to touch but wanted nothing more than to do so.

Mother didn't waste time, however.

She rushed towards Jae, her youngest, and held him the way she had held Younghyun.

"Do you not fear me?" Jae asked in a small voice, hiding on her shoulder and unable to help but wonder. He felt Mother shook her head. And should he choose to look around, he would be able to read the same sentiment in his whole family's countenances.

"No, Jae. You were my son, as you are now, and as you always shall be. Our youngest," she crooned, wiping away a crimson teardrop.

Jae felt himself heal just a little bit.

"We would have to be on the move from here onwards."

Jae whipped his head up from where he was leaning on his sister's shoulder. Younghyun looked serious, but also lonely.

Jae's heart broke. For all the times he had been focused on himself, how much had Younghyun been silently hurting?

"So it would seem to be," Father replied from across them, and Jae loathed his defeated undertone.

"We're merely bidding for the right time, then we shall be on our way," Wonpil chimed in. He sat on Younghyun's right, a quiet support. Jae was equal parts comforted and envious.

He had done nothing but give Younghyun a hard time.

"You do not have to grieve. We shall be visiting whenever possible," Wonpil assured with a charming smile, easing some of his family's worries.

"Come visit soon, your grandparents are too old for travel," Mother implored, sitting between Jae and Younghyun. She took both their hands and squeezed.

"Yes, mother," Jae answered in Younghyun's stead, causing his eyes to widen a fraction.

The smile he gave Jae, looking as though all of his burdens had been lifted, was worth it.

"I'm still unable to face them," Jae confided. He and Younghyun lied on their sides, facing each other, fingers laced together. "My family was... unexpected, and may have accepted me, but they are different."

"They are not," Younghyun attempted to reassure. "They have been missing you just as much, Jae. You are very important to them."

"As they are to me." Jae closed his eyes and took Younghyun's hands to his face to conceal himself. "Maybe they want to see me now, but when they finally do... I would hate to see the change in their faces when they look at me, or for them to act civil."

"Why do you presume so?"

"It is what my mind keeps on telling me."

"Then, would listen to me instead? You know how harsh your mind can get."

"While you are too kind with me."

Younghyun could feel Jae quivering, and halted. He didn't want to push his lover. Perhaps meeting his family was already too much. They had a long time ahead of them, and so did their friends. Jae couldn't possibly spend all of it in despair—Younghyun would _not_ allow that.

Perhaps they could afford to wait a bit more.

"We're moving out," Younghyun informed, somber. "Jae wanted to relay his goodbye."

Yongbok's optimistic expression fell. Hyunjin's eyes started welling. Jimin was scowling, but the pain in her eyes was limpid. Jinseok's reaction indicated that he had predicted such outcome, but resented that he was right. Changbin wouldn't look up from the ground.

"Why could he not do it in person, that coward!" Jimin sneered, charging forward. Jinseok grasped her upper arm, shaking his head.

"Stay calm," he said, his cadence even. "Trust him." Jimin's lips twisted. A small puddle left by the spring drizzle earlier caught her attention. She stared at it with her blue eyes, then gave a resigned exhale.

"He will be back," she assured, her back slumping. It would seem like the water had shown her the future.

She had cried so much, when she saw what happened to Jae too late. Younghyun never blamed her, or anyone else. (Only himself, although he was progressively being persuaded to think otherwise.)

"Will he truly be?" Yongbok asked, the hope that glittered his eyes crushing and mending Younghyun in the same breath.

"We will be," he swore. It might take time, but they would be.

"Stay safe," Changbin spoke up, a first since he had arrived. His gaze was sad but earnest.

Younghyun gave them all, his— _their_ —friends, a wide wobbly smile.

Maybe tomorrow would be a better day. Maybe it wouldn't be. Nothing was ever for certain, but that didn't mean there weren't exceptions. Some had changed, but that didn't mean everything did; that everything _should_.

Things were lost, things were gained, but some remained.

Younghyun awoke to Jae crying again.

"I cannot provide you the family we swore to have, one you have always longed for. Not anymore. Not like _this_ ," he wept, and Younghyun held him, gaining alertness. What Jae said caught up with his mind and he began wordlessly crying with him. For the possibilities, the things they could no longer go back to.

But there were things they still had, that fate could never take away.

"I love you," Younghyun said. A truth.

"I love you," he repeated. A promise.

"I love you," Jae said back. An answer.

**Author's Note:**

> I kept delaying this because I'm not confident with it. I'm still not, so I might return for some edits in the future. I was also debating which one amongst these I should post first so that took time too.
> 
> (TMI: There's a scene here that might become familiar in the future fic. That was written before this.)
> 
> jeogori - basic upper garment of hanbok  
> sseugae chima - the veil lower-class women wore to hide their faces and bodies
> 
> white daisy - innocence, purity, new beginnings, transformation, true love
> 
> There's also this: "They seem so happy, with their sun-like center surrounded by delicate white petals it looks a bit like a bright sun beaming through a cloud." (https://bouqs.com/blog/daisy-flower-meaning-symbolism/)


End file.
